LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 625, 20 June 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A “CASE” OP,MM, {Continued.} 1 “ it will be a stormy day, I fear,” she said; “and it is so stupid of me, but ever since the shipwreck that I was in, I get quite upset when the wind blows high—it makes me shudder 1”

‘ This remark naturally sharpened mj' wits, and I get from her the following particulars.

1 She was going to England with her husband and baby, when, within a few days of arrival, the ship struck; a great many were washed overboard and never seen again. She and her husband and baby were in the water seme time, and ehe and the buoy were ultimately saved, though not togetl sr. She had given up both her treasures as lost, and had sunk into a kind of swoon, when a sailor placed the little thing dripping in her arms. “ My joy was great,” she said simply; “ and when ali hope was gone of my husband being saved, I turned to the little wet bundle in my arms for comfort, and I believe the necessity for giving it food saved my life. With some others, I decided to go back again in the other ship that offered to take us What could I do without my husband in a strange land ? So I never saw England, sir, and I came back without money, clothes, husband or child."

1 “ Or child !” I repeated after her,y.. ‘ “ Yes, sir. It was not my c did F ’ - Hers she burst into tears. ‘ 11 was not my own dear baby, but another ! I found it 6#

soon, but for many hours I mused it as my own, fur I lay in a sort of stupor, hardly noticing anything that occurred around me, and then, sir, what could I do but keep it? It was fatherless and motherless, as i was husbaudless and childless, and so, sir, 1 have kept him ever siuce—this littls oue ! She touched the boy’s forehead as she spoke. • How did you find out he was not yours ?" I asked, with a strange fluttering hope at my heart. ‘“ By his clothes first, sir. You see, the collision happening in the night, there were hardly any of rs dressed. He had only his little night shirt on, that ho had been snatched up in, and when given to me was wrapped in something thick and warm by the good sailor ; so it was not till I roused a little, as some kind ladies offered me some of their own babies’ clothing for him, that I found his shirt was fine and delicate—and rnyjboy’s was (poor and ,coarse. It startled me at once and roused me up like a shock, and when I gazed eagerfy into his eyes I saw he was not my own. My boy put out his little arms and chubby fingers, and crowed in my face this one drank of my milk, and never cooed or chirped to thank me ! ” ‘ The tears were coming fast to her eyes. I pressed the little delicate Jhand firmer to mine, as the child looked up wonderingly to his foster-mother’? face. Were the clothes marked?” I asked. *“ Vos, sir; liu.vo was H. K. on the shirt, and I’ve-always kept it by me safely.” o. i or' Y. 0.3.: . i.vv dafeirjg : I saw the lil-.ee *3 to both parents as on je. the shirt' is marked with the initials thrt. would have been o:?. ft (I bring ths shirt with me), savod in tb.3 noi.lfeiua, In vast, everything points, in my opinion, to the same conclusion; and though I may get a scolding from mj little wife at home, I Inyo, acted to my firm belief. I told the woman our story •vA fully convinced hw, Indeed, she fi'd not need muon inducement to give the little fellow up. She had a certain feeling for him, she said, as having nursed , him, but “1 have never quite got over the turn he gave me when I saw he was not my own, God forgive me !” she continued. “ I have tried to do my best for him. Last year I married again, sir, and have another dear little one now. My husband never took to Clyde (I called him after the ship, sir), but to please me he remains with us, and shares the little we have: but I don’t think he’d fret at all at leaving us; he never took to us any more than my husband to him,” ‘ I saw her husband the next day, and with a small sum of money I got him Lo resign his paternal charge over the boy with great alacrity, Mrs L , the consul’s wife, has kindly undertaken to fit him out respectably, and next week, if all goes well, I hope to start for England with my—as I firmiy be-lieve—long-lust nephew. But what lam to do with him when there 1 don’t know. It’s a queer business to force a child on a woman who says she never had one. Surely she’d say (and with seeming truth) that ‘she ought to know best I” But, as I’believe Providence ordered my steps here to recover the poor little fellow, I will trust the same good Providence to restore him to his natural protectors. IE not, why it makes only one more mouth to feed, He is just Bobby’s age within a week or two ; they will be capital playfellows.’ k Here the letter entered upon other matters. ‘ And now,’ said Miss Dennis, looking at mo steadily with her large earnest eyes, ‘ what are we to do ?’ 1 When does your brother return ? ’ I asked. I Heis on his way now. In three weeks, please God, he will be at home. To think of her littla darling being alive and restored to her, and she not aware of his existence—or his ever having existed ! It would be almost laughable, were it not so sad. How would you advise us to act ? ’ ‘ I must consider, mused I. ‘We must be cautious. With a nervous temperament such as hers, a shock, even of joy, would be a great pain ; and if the memory returns it might be with such a rush as to overturn reason itself.’ After a few moments’ silence, I proposed the following plan. ‘ They must meet in the ordinary course of circumstances; at least, it must seem so to her, She knows, of course, of her brother’s having gone to Jamaica ” a : On. yes, and takes an interest in all the | arrangements; often talks about him andth* e old places he will visit; is quite cheerful * when wc mention his returning soon, end i paying us a visit of a week or two, after he | haa run down to sec hie wife and family, j Indeed, she caid it might enliven me, if he i could bring ens of his children with him.’ I ‘ She has never peen Master Bobby, whom j ycur brother speaks of as being about the same age as her own ” { ‘Never.’

‘I have it i’ I exclaimed, ‘introduce Master Clyde as Master Bobby, and see if any particular effect will be made upon her. Let your brother come as expected, and bring the boy with him, Is there a : ; girl anywhere?’ ‘Yes, the eldest, Mary; named after herself. ’

Tho long and tho fjuort of it is this, that I advised tLo cringing up or his little girl, Mfi";;, and hie supposed nephew, Clyde, whose real name, if indeed he was hi? nephew, was ISdward; and let the mother and child be brought together as events would naturally occur. 1 And let me know. I concluded, ‘ as soon as yon can, if anything comes of our little stratagem.’ 1 must now put another letter before my reader, for what followed will be better understood from Miss Dennis’ narrative than from words of mine.

1 DiSAB Dootou, — As X nave now really something to relate to you, I will write yon my promised letter. I must just tell you that, for some days before Frank returnee, Mary has seemed verv uneasy in her mind ; restless and fitful ; complained of bad nights, and strange dreams ; but on the day that Frank was expected and came, she was much calmer and herself again. She How to meet him, and tho servants taking forcible possession of the children at a previous hint of mine, we had some minutes in the drawingroom before they were brought in. ‘ On their arrival, Frank said, ‘Your little namesake, Mary, and Master Bobby.’ l As her eyes fell on the boy, I saw her start. My heart beat fearfully.

‘ “ So this is Bobby, is it ? ” she said, and just laid her hand on his head. 1 He is like —not you,’ and she looked fixedly at Frank ; ‘ nor your wife’—here she paused, and turning away passed Lor hand across her brow. Frank signed to me to take the children out of the room ; which I did ; left them with •the.nurse, and "returned. Mary had walked to the window, and for a few seconds we took

no notice of her, Lut conversed on different subjects. Then I turned to her and said, .“I’ll ; leave you two together, Mary. There’s lots of business to talk over, and I’ll go and look aft«r the chicks.”

< She turned round, and one would have thought she had aged ten years in thosfe few moments. She had a pained and wearied look, and her thoughts seemed lar away as she answered, “J) o, Elen— and keep them quiet—and get Bobby—BbbhyJ” she repented, ” who is he like ?—I don’t think I can be well, I foci so strange.” And sho turned back to I ho. window and looked o^.

• I confess I thought of sending at once for you, she had such a wild, oppressed look on her face. She was close to us, and yet. one felt that she herself was very far away. I feared we had done wrong in testing her in this manner, and might kill her reason if we ventured further, I wished at the moment the boy bad never been found, and went out of the room quite, savagely. I remembered what yon said about let’ing things come naturally, so wo did not have the children in again, or even mention them, until a bright young laugh rang in our cars from the floor above, where a temporary nursery had been arranged.

[ To be continued .]